


What Could Only Be Grim

by NekomataHajime



Category: Death Note
Genre: F/M, Violence, gun - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-17 00:40:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3508667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekomataHajime/pseuds/NekomataHajime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There she was across the club ordering a drink as if nothing had happened. As if she hadn't shot him last week. MelloxOC</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Could Only Be Grim

Night was the perfect cover as he slipped through the alleys on his way home, in this section of town there were few street lights that worked and his escape was almost set in stone, he'd hailed a cab to his apartment, he paid the driver and got out. The cab took off and he whipped around to see a woman with a gun, pointed straight at him. He chuckled and started turning around, just in time for the gun to go off. A smile on her face, she walked away.

The bullet struck his shoulder, spinning him so that when he fell, he landed on it. He didn't move for a few minutes, then he finally stood up and went inside. Going straight to the bathroom he removed his leather jacket and shirt. Grimacing as he moved his arm. He picked up a pair of tweezers and slowly pulled the intruding object from the wound. He hissed as it came into view. It was gold and had the letters N.G. engraved into the side. He stared at it for a moment before laying it on the counter and started stitching the hole shut. When Matt walked in he ignored him. "What the hell happened to you? Shrapnel?" He asked in a mocking tone.

The blond scowled as he cut the thread. "No, some bitch shot me when I got here. Why don't you do me a favor and get me some chocolate? I'll be relaxing her for a little while, waiting for this to heal up some." He said, running his fingers over the inflamed skin.

He lasted a week, to be exact nine days, before he went stir crazy and demanded Matt go with him to get some "fresh air." Reluctant, but lacking choice, he tagged along. "Fresh air" ended up being going clubbing. Matt let Mello pick, he didn't even want to be here. The red-head poked along as Mello picked the  _Hangtime Lounge_  and strutted in.

He looked around, trying to map his way the writhing bodies to the bar, however, something caught his eye while he was scoping the room. There she was, across the club at the bar ordering a drink as if nothing had happened. As if she hadn't shot him last week. "There she is, Matt, look! There's that bitch who shot me!" Mello said, pointing. The goggled man next to him looked over, recognizing his chance to escape, he said "Well, what are you waiting for? Go confront her!" Mello nodded as the red-head disappeared. The blond's strides ate up the room as he made his way to the bar. "I'll have one of whatever  _she's_  having." He said, nodding his head in the gunman's direction. The bartender chuckled and handed him a Fuzzy Navel. "You're awfully vocal for a dead man, and also horribly oblivious to have ordered what I did. A gentleman across the bar had this disgusting thing brought to me, I have no intention of drinking it." She said, handing the drink to the bartender to pour down the sink before ordering a shot of whiskey. "I didn't order the drink to _drink_  it, I ordered it to get your piss-poor attention, after I'd already gotten a taste of your piss-poor aim." Mello said, glaring down at her.

In the better light the bar provided, he could see that the woman had long dark red hair that fell in waves down her back and her amber eyes almost glowed. "Piss-poor aim? You moved, at least I'm not the one the rumores site as a 'terrible lover with an even worst IQ.'" She retorted, downing her whiskey and getting up to leave. Mello was dumbfounded, his skill in bed had be challenged, as well as his intelligence. He followed her out, knowing full well that Matt had gone home. "How far do you intend to follow me? I shot you, and now you stalk me?" The woman called over her shoulder.

She stoped walking and he utilized that moment to pin her against one of the alley walls. "Who are you and why the  _fuck_  did you shoot me?" He demanded, tightening his grip on her wrists. She laughed, and shook her head. "Such obvious questions with such simple answers. But why should I tell _you_  anything?" She challenged. Becoming frustrated with his lack of desired response, he leaned in just enough to invade her personal space. "Hmm, fine we'll make this a game. You win, you get what you want. I win, I get what I want. Now, I name the game." He said, pulling away very slightly. She shook her head, her dark hair bouncing with each movement. "Why would I agree to that?" She asked calmly. He leaned in even closer this time, his mouth right next to her ear. "Because, you love a challenge, and I've  _never_  lost this game. Where are we playing, your place or mine?" He whispered sensually in her ear.

It was decided to be played at his place. "So what's the name of this game you've never lost? And what are the rules?" She finally asked as the stepped through the door into the apartment. All of the lights out meant Matt had already gone to bed. Mello simply smirked and directed her to the couch, asking if she wanted anything to drink. She shook her head and he left momentarily only to return with a bar of chocolate in his mouth.

"Alright, name of the game is New War. The rules are that of the card game War, but with a twist. Each perosn draws a card and lays it face-up, the 'stronger' card wins and the person with the 'weaker' card has to remove an article of clothing, both cards are put to the side. Whoever is naked first, loses." He explained between bites. "You brought me here to play a simpler version of  _Strip Poker_?" She exclaimed. "What? Afraid you'll lose?" He taunted, placing the deck of cards between them.

In about four rounds not only was the dark-haired woman losing, she was losing  _badly_. She had lost her leather jacket and top, as well as her jeans. As shoes did not count they had been taken off before hand. Mello sat there with a content grin on his face, having only lost one round, only his vest had been removed. While it left him with a bare chest that he knew to be a wonderful view, he was enjoying the view of his would-be killer in her underwear. He'd already learned she was a sore loser, and that she was wearing a thong.

Two rounds later he had lost his pants and she her bra. Left in their last remaining clothes. He laid down his card and she hers, his jaw dropped. He'd lost, before he could look up, she had pushed him down and straddled him. "Just so you have the proper name to moan, I am Grim, Natalie Grim." She whispered in his ear while grinding against his hardening member, forcing a moan from him.

He made quick work of their remaining garments, tossing them aside. Without the slightest bit of hesitation she impaled herself on his now rock-hard length, a gasp of pleasure pulled from her mouth. It didn't take long for her to reach her climax, then he flipped her over, without losing any time he began pushing ever deeping into her, causing the sounds of pleasure coming from her to amplify. In moments he too was getting close, she locked her legs and around his hips and he lost what little control he'd had left and he came.

Afterwords, he lay on top of her for a few moments before rolling away. "You want to know why I shot you? To get your attention, for this moment." She said, kissing him before pulling the blanket off the back of the couch and rolling over to fall asleep.


End file.
